


Knock on my walls, they are crumbling

by ShadowSelene (Shadowdianne)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 20:29:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16709497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowdianne/pseuds/ShadowSelene
Summary: The hero shows up at the villain’s doorstep one night. They’re shivering, bleeding, scared. There’s also a slightly dazed look in their eyes– they were drugged. They look like they were assaulted. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly as they’re close to passing out, they mumble “…didn’t know where else to go…” then collapse into the villain’s arms(Stregaomega asked for s1 SQ)





	Knock on my walls, they are crumbling

**Author's Note:**

> This one is going to require some name dropping: so, stregaomega is the full responsible for this one. Also sincerely-a-fan has reminded me that this story needed to happen. I’ve also changed some things around. [Including some tweaks on time line] But the basis of the prompt remains, promise.
> 
> However!!! Farewellmyswash has already answered to stregaomega’s petition and please, if you haven’t already go and read it on tumblr. I’m still fangirling about her take on this one.
> 
> PS: I also mentioned evergrove but I don’t want to pester anyone more than a bunch of us has already done. Still, fic writers, I need more versions of this.

 

 

The red of the apple felt almost preternatural the more Regina stared at it, fingers searching on her collarbone, jittery in a way that made her growl inwardly at her own nervousness. House filled with silence, the warmth the cider she was drinking gave her didn’t quite quench the flutter on her stomach and, as she stared at the tumbler half-full of liquid, she blinked slowly at the warm glow the glass seemed to produce with the aid of the soft lights that spilled over her study.

It was easy, she told herself, the voice on her close enough to another voice, one that felt like cold ice falling down her spine. A simple recipe, a few slices. The perfect trap.

And yet, she counter-argumented before she returned her gaze towards the apple that had been sitting on her coffee table far longer than she would have imagined after she had returned from the vault, even with such a simple plan she couldn’t bring herself to stand and begin the preparations. The quickly weakening magic on the apple reminded her of the tight time frame she had and yet, as she brought the glass to her lips, she kept searching for a ring that wasn’t there and memories she knew wouldn’t appear again.

_“Fight.”_ Her mother’s voice whispered on the shell of her ear, a voice she had always hated, a voice that only appeared when she was feeling particularly doubtful. _“Isn’t that what I raised you for?”_

She loathed Emma Swan, she needed her gone. The truth made her hum as she pressed her lips against the cold surface of the tumbler, leaving behind faint lipstick marks that coated the rim of the glass with a pale version of the deep red she wore. Still, even if her decision had been made without a shred of a doubt, now anger had subsided, congealing itself back on the bottom of her lungs and stomach, unused, unspent, and yet mellower.

Her musings were broken by a heavy knock on the door, one that startled her. Glancing at her watch the vague memories of the dream from the night before made her swallow thickly, almost pinching herself as she waited a second, two, waiting for the knock to come again, hoping for it to not to do so.

A second knock, more desperate this time, made her stand, cider sloshing dangerously for a moment before she placed the glass on top of the table, next to the apple which, rolling softly, leant on the glass in an almost offering way. One that made Regina shiver as magic kept trickling out of her, waiting for her.

A third knock made her blink, suddenly making her remember why she had stood on the first place. With slow movements, she walked away from the table into the foyer as she focused on the still closed door from where the knocking sound had transformed from strong and incessant to almost shy.

Maybe, she considered, she should go back to her drink, to her staring at a fruit that had meant a lot back in a time that wasn’t there anymore. Alongside a backbone she apparently lacked. Or, maybe, she replied to her mother’s voice, she could do something different.

Standing as tall as she was and checking herself quickly on the nearby mirror, she flattened her dress with a couple of well-placed fingers, her skin warmer than she would have expected, the feeling seeping through the fabric as she walked towards the door. Opening it with one quick movement, not letting her mind overthink it, she blinked as the white lights from a still running yellow beetle momentarily blinded her.

“Miss Swan.” She began as she narrowed her eyes to the figure standing in front of her -leaning was perhaps a better descriptor to the fact of how the woman’s tall body seemed to be slumped on her doorway, one hand gripping the doorjamb. - . The bite on her greeting was, however, lost as she saw the way Emma’s fingers grasped to the wood, white knuckles stained with the faintest trace of dried blood.

Gasping despite herself, she traveled up the blonde’s hand, towards her arm, her shoulder, and finally her face. It was there where she stopped, the obvious pain on the blonde’s green eyes shadowed slightly by the glazed look they had.

“Sorry.” The blonde croaked out, her voice broken and jagged, lacking the strength Regina was accustomed to it. “I… will clean the mess later. - Regina glanced down, at her a trickle of blood and mud was staining the porch- … didn’t know where else to go.”

The last bit was slurred, swallowed almost by the cough and self-deprecating chortle that escaped the woman’s mouth. Not letting go from the doorjamb, Emma’s hand, the one that had been hanging limply at her side until now, rose to her face, trailing her fingers through more-than-usual mussed tresses. Knuckles red and swollen, Regina saw the signs of a fist fight. Understandable, a voice on the back of her voice reminded her, since she had had one not so long ago after all.

“If you have come to proof something to me, Miss Swan…” She began, feeling the anger return as it usually did whenever the other woman was around. This time, however, instead of an angry reply what she got was a weak shake from Emma’s head, the dizziness on those green eyes only turning stronger with every passing second.

“… please. Regina.”

It was perhaps Regina’s tiredness, the fact that she had spent the last few hours of her evening looking at a magic apple without knowing if she was actually able to use the hex it possessed. It was, maybe, Emma’s state, a far cry from the woman’s usual cockiness. Or maybe the way she whispered her name, devoid of any kind of hate or anger. Whatever it was, calmed Regina’s own anger, leaving behind nothing but a kind of worry that surprised the former queen.

Glancing at the still light-up beetle for a second, she sighed and nodded, stepping aside and motioning Emma to walk inside and, ultimately, moving towards her when the blonde shook her head once again, more at loss than before. One hand on her forearm, the other helping her to remain standing, Regina aided the blonde until the two of them were inside the mansion, quickly closing the door behind them both with a push of her still heeled foot.

Well, she thought, helping Emma as the blonde automatically went to the only room she knew from the mansion, this was quite the development. Not that she was beginning to feel worry, of course. Even if the dazed look and the obvious disarray her clothes were in now that she stared at the woman more closely, did indeed worry her.

“What happened?” She found herself asking, despite her every instinct asking her why, why she had let the woman enter. Practically shoving Emma into her couch, she quickly picked both tumbler and apple and put them away on the farthest corner of the studio.

At her back, Emma’s soft and yet sad giggle, made her turn.

“Have you ever go to the Rabbit Hole?” Emma’s eyes were lost on the carpet, fingers prodding at the hem of that awful leather jacket. The question itself didn’t seem to hold any link with whatever had happened to Emma but Regina, with a sick feeling on her stomach beginning to ascend already, let her talk.

She could always fish for information, she told herself, sitting at the other edge of the couch, primly and put.

The lie was so blatant even her mother’s voice laughed at her.

“I haven’t.” She replied, truthfully and Emma snorted a little at that, eyes closing by the moment and voice slurred in a way Regina didn’t quite like.

“I shouldn’t have asked.” Emma replied, and Regina waited for her to keep on talking, which, as she kept on tugging at her jacket, Emma did. “Archie told me Henry is better off with me.”

The admission, said in a sobbing whisper, made Regina raise her brows, suddenly interested.

“And yet…” Emma blinked almost comically slowly, and the brunette realized she was seconds to pass out. “I don’t want to leave.”

It felt raw in a way that made Regina pause as Emma licked her bottom lip, despair on her eyes as she locked her gaze with hers before she moved towards her, lunging almost but missing with lazy and almost spasming movements.

“Miss Swan.” Regina was amazed at the stern tone on her voice, Archie’s words still echoing on her brain, Emma’s broken voice ricocheting and pushing her mother’s voice away, far away than she had ever managed to push her herself. “You shouldn’t…”

Emma cut her once again, however, not seeming to realize the older woman was speaking.

“I went there, to the Rabbit Hole. And they…they tried to make me fight, told me why was there, the sheriff… that I couldn’t.” Regina suspected she wasn’t going to get a name, not now, but she found herself already making a quick list of possible suspects, anger seeping through. “Punch me. But I’m stronger.”

Regina found herself sighing as Emma began to fall into her lap, eyes closing slightly.

“You can’t fall asleep.” She said, not bothering to check her inner surprise this time. Maybe, she mussed, that had been the reason why, the reason behind her doubts, the reason as why she hadn’t already fed Emma a piece of the apple, ending everything there and forever.

It was almost ironic.

Almost.

And yet, as Emma nodded drowsily, cheeks red but neck and forehead clammy to the touch, Regina did not move, did not yield, not even when the apple was mere steps away.

“Re…”

And, despite herself, despite the hate, the fear this woman instigated on her, Regina sighed and answered.

“I’m here, Miss Swan. I’m here.”


End file.
